Chapter 12 - Blood in the Winter Garden and the Vow of Iron
Deprived of his fortune, his political protection, and his illegal supply lines, Vincent Caldwell went completely feral.
Cornered animals are the most dangerous.
At midnight, a blizzard descended upon the city, blanketing the streets in twelve inches of blinding white snow.
Deep within the private estate of the Ashford Manor, Elena stood in the glass-domed winter conservatory on the second floor, looking out over the snow-covered pine forest. The master drive was secure, Caldwell’s empire was crumbling, but an uneasy tension settled over her heart.
A sudden, sharp whistling sound cut through the howling wind outside.
THWACK.
A high-caliber sniper round shattered the reinforced glass dome above her, missing Elena’s head by inches and pulverizing a terracotta planter behind her.
"ELENA, GET DOWN!"
Dominic burst into the conservatory, tackling her to the marble floor just as a second sniper round tore through the glass where she had been standing.
Alarms blared across the estate.
Automated floodlights bathed the snow in blinding white light. Through the falling blizzard, dozens of armed mercenaries in winter camouflage were swarming over the outer perimeter walls.
Caldwell had gathered every last loyal gun-for-hire, every surviving psycho in his syndicate, and launched a suicidal, all-out assault on Ashford Manor.
"He’s not trying to win a mob war anymore," Dominic said, dragging Elena behind a heavy stone balustrade as gunfire raked across the conservatory. "He knows he’s finished. He came here to die—and take us with him."
Dominic drew his twin pistols, firing through the shattered glass dome. Two mercenaries breaching the balcony collapsed into the snow below.
Marco’s voice crackled over Dominic’s tactical earpiece. "Boss! Main gate has been breached by an armored ram! We're holding the courtyard, but Caldwell personally led a strike team into the west wing!"
Dominic looked at Elena.
There was no fear in her eyes. Only cold, resolute fire. She reached into Dominic's tactical belt, drawing a sleek 9mm pistol with practiced confidence.
"I am not hiding in a panic room, Dominic," she said fiercely. "We finish this together."
Dominic stared at her for a second, then a dark, proud smile crossed his face. He leaned down, cupping her face in his hands, and pressed a hard, passionate kiss to her lips amidst the raining glass and deafening gunfire.
"If we survive tonight, Elena Vance," Dominic growled against her lips, "you are marrying me. You are becoming the queen of this entire city."
May you like
Elena racked the slide of her weapon, her amber eyes blazing with absolute conviction.
"Keep me alive to say 'I do,' Dominic Ashford."
